


Lateral Minds

by RedFox29



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Horror, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Regeneration, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Telekinesis, healing factor, telepathic reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 14:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21357529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFox29/pseuds/RedFox29
Summary: Fitting in was not an option, it never had been. Destined to remain locked in the crossfire of a war waged between humanity and their own future, your past laying waste to any promise of a normal future of your own, you were at the mercy of politics and a mere subject of experimentation, a thing to be feared should you slip from their control. What little life you were permitted to live only acted as a veil to shroud your true potential, and you allowed yourself to grasp at whatever straws were thrown your way, desperate to cling to what little normality you were allowed. Until you didn't. Derry called to you, something waking and catching your scent to extend its hand, making promises of its own. But would they keep?
Relationships: Pennywise (IT) & Original Female Character(s), Pennywise (IT)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. Escape

Another crack of lightning split the sky, an echo of the shattered skull of the boy just feet away from you, the brief flash illuminating the stunned expression turned upwards in your direction from the pool of mingling rainwater and blood. What had you done?

The storm was sobering, the now deafening hiss of rain fading in to fill a void that seemed to overtake you only moments ago. Trembling, you looked down, your arms still extended forwards with palms open to face the lifeless body before you, fingertips still pulsating with a dying energy that seemed to recoil with the veil of fog lifting from your eyes. 

What the fuck had you done...

*Run*

The ghostly voice echoed in the back of your skull, whether your own or some other force, you no longer knew. Regardless, you obliged, stumbling backwards from the gruesome scene to the splash of water on cold pavement beneath your feet, regaining some control of the senses you'd all but lost as you tore yourself from the mangled remains, the alleyway, and any hope of a future ringing with even a hit of normality. There was no coming back from something like this, both factions would have a field day and you'd spend the rest of your unnaturally long life in quarantine, in one form or another. But perhaps that was the fate you deserved; you were a danger to others, to yourself, and what's more you could scarcely remember your own actions, as though you'd blacked out and given yourself over entirely to some other force laying dormant within you. 

All of these thoughts and more spurred you onwards through the empty midnight streets, the wind and rain fighting against your already shaken body as if to insist you return and face your crime, like a master with his dog to a torn up shoe. But you couldn't, and you found yourself already conjuring up what flickers of mental energy you had left to push the all too vivid images out of your mind's eye. You had to get out, now. 

It seemed like forever until you finally reached your so-called "apartment", not even bothering to fumble for your keys as your simply phased through the lock, an invisible force driving the pins and springs into place and blowing the door open in time with another rumble of thunder, the pulsating within your own skull wrenched by the sudden use of energy. Salt and copper trickled thickly down the back of your throat, your taste buds faintly registering the taste painting the back of your tongue while you scrambled through your belongings, haphazardly stuffing them into a backpack on a cot in the corner of the old Bachelor unit. Just the essentials, not that you had much anyways. The entire process was done in a daze, the room spinning as you seemingly watched what mere remnants of a life you already had fall away. You struggled to fight down the nauseous feeling churning in your gut, rippling upwards to coalesce with the blood in your throat, saliva formulating around your tongue and the incessant buzzing wracking your temples. 

You cleared the fridge and cabinets of whatever you could fit into the secondary pockets of the bag before making your exit. Heading towards the door, you flung the canvas over your shoulder before grabbed the hidden keys from the bowl on top of the only decent piece of furniture in the entire space. You stopped, looking into the reflection staring back at you from the glass panes laden into its oak doors. It was the last physical memory you had of your parents, surrendered to you begrudgingly by the Ministry of Mutant Affairs when they granted you some twisted measure of freedom in this place. You wondered what words of strength your parents would have to offer you now. Would they condemn you for your actions? Would you even be in this mess had they still been there? You tried desperately to look beyond the reflection, but all you could see was an unwavering monster returning the glare. You knew then that there was no going back.

Clearing away the fallen branches masking the abandoned shack a few blocks down from the low-rise units, you worked the key into the lock, clicking it open and flipping open the latch. You weren't granted much in the way of extracurricular activities, but you'd found solace in tinkering with an old Yamaha you'd been gifted by an old friend, one of the few. You smiled momentarily at the happy memory, allowing your fingers to brush the black, glossy chassis. This was it. 

Guiding the vehicle out of its hidden storage and into the steadily falling rain, you threw your leg over its frame, straddling the seat and securing the black helmet on your head. Inserting the key into the ignition, you poured all your energy into a silent plea, willing the thing to start.

*Please work...*

Sure enough, with the aid of whatever blessings you had left, the engine roared to life with a sharp turn of your wrist, that much weight lifting from your shoulders at least. 

Despite your plight, something stirred within you as you raced through the empty streets, the pain of loss and anguish of a former life gradually drowned out by a new found sense of freedom and the promise of a new beginning. Where you would end up, you hadn't the slightest clue. But as the miles racked up, the lights of the city fading away in the bar end mirrors with the oncoming dawn, you knew it would be a long time yet until you returned to Chicago, if you ever did. You needed somewhere quiet, somewhere no one knew your name. And as the hours rolled on, you found yourself meeting the eastern coast, playing with the border of your northern neighbors once or twice. But ultimately, after finding no true respite in the other little towns and hamlets you took temporary refuge in for food and gas, you landed in the final frontier settled on the uppermost corner of the States. The blue signage flashed in your peripheral as you crossed into new territory, the last you would see before you would finally utter the word "home":

"Welcome to Maine, the way life should be!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! So this is something a little different (I feel like I say this in all my fics...) - there are clearly mentions of "Mutants" in this take, but this is not a true cross-over with any Marvel mutant universe. There may be hints and mentions here and there, and our reader's past is indeed linked with a couple mutants in particular, but that's it. I just thought it might be interesting to experiment with giving the typically portrayed weak and frail humans of Pennywise's hunting grounds a bit of an edge, our reader in particular. Professor X will not be rolling into the sewers of Derry, sorry.


	2. Synchronize

Derry was an odd little town, somehow seemingly cast aside by the outer world to live and thrive in it's own nescient version of reality. Although, this wasn't exactly uncommon amongst small town life, especially in the eyes of big city folk. There is a certain disconnect within the confines of a small municipality which resonated either comfort or an eerie sense of disquiet, depending on the person. In your case, Derry posed as the perfect setting in which to start life anew; no one knew who you were, and no one seemed to care. Acquiring new personal identification was a piece of cake, albeit an admittedly shameful affair, the guilt from which you found yourself swallowing down knowing your need. Using your talents had always been strictly prohibited unless otherwise authorized in a contained environment or simulation. Of course, you'd entertained yourself and your friends with the odd bit of mischief, removing chairs from under unsuspecting security personnel at the facility from the cover of the shadows, pantsing over-confident bullies in the streets, followed up by influencing their goons to instigate a brawl amongst themselves. Childish things really. But your official training had you delve into all corners of the vast expanse of the human consciousness, extracting and twisting what was asked of you. The lengths to which you could explore were ultimately limitless, but you dared not cross lines which even you knew were morally forbidden, even when you were subjected to more...persistent forms of persuasion to do so. 

But there was something translucent about the people in Derry; you hardly had to flinch and any questions of your origins and reasons behind needing to replenish an entire set of I.D. (with no existing documents to present, no less), were quickly and quietly squashed behind a genuine smile from the grey woman behind the plexiglass. Maybe they really didn’t care? 

As far as living arrangements went, you held up in an old hotel upon your arrival which reeked of stale air and mildew, but even that was more of a comfort than your prior residence. And it wasn't long before you found a job in town at the local garden centre. Your handlers back at the facility suggested years ago that having a green thumb would quell any emotional disturbances, and you took to the Earth like the roots of a tree to soil. So, naturally, this was the perfect opportunity through which to finally integrate yourself into society and begin your journey towards true independence. Here you intended to work your way towards affording a place of your own. Until then, the hotel's curator was kind enough to offer you an extended visitors discount on your room, and through no influence of your own to boot, requesting only that you respect hotel policies and abstain from hosting any overpopulated gatherings. Which of course was a non-issue as you hadn’t any friends here anyways.

It was altogether a jarring transition, being thrown from a life of near solitude, constant scrutiny, and ultimately being treated like a freak by everyone with whom you came in contact, to living so far below the radar that on more than one occasion you questioned if invisibility was a newly acquired skill in your already painfully expansive list of peculiarities. But you did your best to welcome it with open arms, as the town itself seemed to do in return. True, the people here showed a general lack of interest in you, but there was also a warming comfort in your interactions with them. Here you were just another girl in town. A new comer, yes, but you did your part working at the garden centre and kept your head down, so you were hardly standing under a spotlight. 

And so it went over the course of the following weeks; you picked up on the job quickly and went to work like everyone else, stock piled your earnings, visited the grocery store, exchanged pleasantries with the locals during your outings, and even established your own little reading nook at the local library. It may not have been overly exciting and full of adventure like so many of your other peers had experienced and raved about, but it was more of a life than you’d ever had. And for once it was just nice to finally fit in.

~

Far below the ongoing surge of life in the town’s streets above, the bowels of Derry carried with it an altogether very different tune; the unremitting stench of waste and festering unknown things sloshed between aged stone and brick, the air thick with unnatural fumes and the lingering promise of a soiled grave. Somewhere in it’s halls, the squelching and tearing of flesh echoed, chased by the gnashing of teeth in fervid consumption. IT raised it’s head from the bloodied and disemboweled torso, breaking from it’s feast to revel in the near ritualistic virtues of the act. Enlivened and fulfilled to the brim with gore and the sheer essence of his victim’s fear, he allowed the felicity of it all to wash over him and cleans him anew, his insatiable thirst for the time being entombed. Rising from where he crouched, he carelessly let the small, mangled corpse roll from his grasp to land facedown in the greywater at his feet, left to bob in the filth like a discarded bit of trash. He stiffly tilted his head as he observed his handiwork, cracking a kink in his neck as a sinister smile crept across bloodied lips, the viscous liquid pooling at his chin with the pull of painted skin to dribble down and seep into the already thoroughly soaked ruff around his neck. The garment sagged heavily with the liquid, the sickly sweet aroma of copper still pungent and fresh to his senses, eliciting a sort of manic high as it melted into every fiber of his twisted being. As the feeling washed over him to pull a building strain of deranged laughter from deep within his core, his triumph was intercepted by a peculiar sensation, the sounds in his throat cutting off as his demeanour dropped suddenly. He stood for a moment, wavering, hung between two worlds as he focused on the pulsating at his temples, amplifying with every passing moment. It wasn’t long before he was unbearably overstimulated, his senses branching out ten fold like radio waves desperately searching for a home across flicking frequencies. An unfamiliar urge to wretch gripped this form's stomach like a vice and he felt himself crumble. What was this? Groaning, he clutched at his vibrating skull, the matter inside thumping as though it might explode, the force of it bringing him to his knees in the sewer tunnel. Too loud...everything was too loud; the sound of a car driving far overhead, children laughing in the park, a dog barking. He wanted to rip them all to shreds, rip out this incessant torture within his skull. Just as his blackened claws began boring their way into the white flesh of his temples, the frequency died with a low hum, the sudden lack of stimulation sending him into a state of numbed un-focus as he stared blankly into the water below him. Eventually his senses trickled back into focus, honing in on a single sound: it was a conversation, a female voice, then another, considerably more youthful than the first. The trembling in his frame ceased, the tips of his claws settled into shallow puncture wounds at his temples as he listened, the dull ache simmering to a mild buzzing like a fly pestering his insides.

"What would you recommend?"

"I'd go with mulch, the red. It'll accent the property nicely I think, and you won't need to water the flower beds as much!"

Shared laughter.

"Well that'll please the County won't it now! Ok dear, better make it 8 bags then."

More conversation, the sound of a till ringing up.

"If you bring your truck ‘round, I'll load this all up for you."

"Oh...are you sure dear? This is quite a hefty load. Is Tim in today?"

He could feel the irritation radiating from the second female, but the feeling was quick to die out.

"No, just me today I'm afraid. But I'm fine, really. I'm not just a pretty face ya know!" 

The voices chuckled before the other woman agreed, apparently exiting the scene as footsteps fading from earshot. THIS was the product of his suffering, this back and forth nonsense? Rage boiled within him and he ripped bloodied claws from their perch at his temples. He had just exuded energy on a kill, but surely he could donate a little extra from his stores to rid him of this nuisance, lest he have another gruelling episode of...whatever that was. Looking down at the battered and torn corpse floating next to him, he snorted. What a pair they would make.

~

The scent grew stronger on the breeze, guiding him to the source across town. It gave him such a rush to walk amongst his livestock so effortlessly, the fools so blissfully unaware of his ever lingering presence in their midst unless he should choose otherwise. This town was his, his own little haven to bend to his every whim and will, to toy with and terrorize as he pleased and feast on whenever the need struck him. It had been this way for as long as memory served him, and it suited him just fine. It was a shame he only had a few years at most for every 27 spent in hibernation to play with his food, but alas, such was his fortune. So he revelled in it fully for as long as was permitted. 

His now entirely run-of-the-mill human form smiled mockingly at the unsuspecting faces passing by in the downtown streets, a few returning the gesture ignorantly. Oh how sweet it was to think of how simply he could turn and rip into their warm flesh right here, right now, turn out their insides and inhale the sweet elixir of their fears like a compelling drug. Oh yes, he held all the cards, every single blessed one stuffed up his sleeves, and the power he felt was invigorating. He remained focused, however, this trail of emotion calling to him still through the crowd, drawing him in, practically begging to be put down. And as he drew closer he promised to deliver in full, recompense for turning him into a thrashing mess down on his knees in the filth below. Never again.

He paused at the street corner to regain his bearings as the breeze shifted. Odd...this was a potent tincture, but it was something more than mere emotion. It was something...new. His eyes narrowed, the blue in their depths threatening to give the game away as a flicker of orange seeped into the mix momentarily. Reclaiming his stride, he honed in on a small garden centre across the way, standing alone beyond a large parking lot. Despite his outward appearance, he kept his distance, opting to return to his place in the shadows for the sake of the hunt. 

Making his way around the back of the property, he closed in on the outdoor warehouse of the establishment, scanning the premises for the culprit of his earlier torment. And there it was, or rather, “she”. As was promised in what he assumed was her portion of the conversation, she pulled large bags of this "mulch" substance from a pile on the lofty third shelf of a mass storage unit stretching the expanse of the tall iron warehouse fence. And what was more, she was entirely alone, how convenient. His lips curled up into a cruel smile, saliva pooling in his mouth to coat the growing set of carnassials. Too easy. However, as he watched on, planning his movements, he felt a pang of fear wash off her and he noted the wobbling ladder beneath her. In a panicked attempt at regaining her balance, she scrambled at one of the bags, uselessly gripping the casing only to pull the package free of its perch and sending it plummeting to the concrete floor. 

Humans were such painfully stupid creatures. 

But his amusement was cut short when the crash of merchandise and metal never came, and he refocused on the scene: the bag now hovered in place a good few inches from the ground, the ladder frozen in place at a most precarious angle, and the human...the human hung in the balance between, her hair floating delicately around her face as though she were underwater, her hands held out before her in the direction of both offending obstacles. She blinked, chest heaving as she quickly scanned the area, breathing a sigh of relief when she noticed no one else in the vicinity. All at once, the bag lowered itself gently to the ground, the ladder correcting itself in an upright position, she moving with it. Running a hand through her hair as it settled back around her shoulders, she ruffled it thoroughly, blowing a strand out of her face as it fell. All the clown could do was blink, eyes wide as he struggled to process what he'd just witnessed. He continued to stare dumbly as she descended the steps, stooping to grab the bag. But as she rose she paused half way, looking out between the iron bars of the fence. Directly at him.

He froze. He had given her no passage to nor hint of his presence. Surely she had caught sight of something else behind him, but he dared not turn. Just then, a voice faded into the corners of his mind, barely a whisper as it made contact with his well guarded psyche:

"Who...who are you?"

That was it, he was done. This hunt was officially at a premature end. Collecting what little focus he had left, he pulled into himself, dissolving from the scene to recoil back to the embrace of the depths below. 

He landed with all the grace of a spluttering fish out of water in the centre of the cavern, bewildered and utterly thrown by what he'd seen. Her face previously unknown to him now burned vividly into his mind, those eyes boring into him with a heat so intense as he'd never known, her voice reverberating still through his mind as he scrambled at reason. Though reason itself was a somewhat foreign concept under his hightop of controlled chaos, he did what he could to console himself at present. This simply would not do. No no, it would not. Whoever...WHATEVER she was needed to make a hasty exit from these hallowed grounds of his immediately, and he had every intention of driving this new threat out by any means possible. Still, he couldn't help but entertain the curiosity gnawing at the back of his mind. Something in him yearned to know more about this mysterious being that had so suddenly and so effortlessly slipped through his borders undetected. Admittedly, it had been quite some time since he had come face to face with anything posing even a remote challenge. If he ever had. So it was settled; like a child beaten at his own game, he had every intention of making a comeback so fierce as to catapult your life into a living Hell on Earth until you submitted to his will, driving you mad with fear before inevitably bringing you to your own knees at his feet where he would finally grant you death. 

No one, absolutely no one got the better of him.


	3. Bullies

"Shit!"

Your eyes flew fully open when you caught sight of the glaring red "8:40a.m." staring obnoxiously up at you from the clock on the bedside table, practically sending you flailing out of bed when you realized you had only 20 minutes until clock-in time at the garden centre. 

This was the third morning your dreams had held you captive through the blaring alarm, either your fingertips or some other force never failing to find the Snooze button in your resistance to the wee hours of the day. Strange visions had plagued your sleep the past few nights, each morning sending you back into the waking world in a cold sweat, clutching the sheets as images from your past flashed vividly in the forefront of your mind: familiar faces, cold metal around your neck, the glare of examination lights in a white room, the jeering of strangers on the streets, and...a pair of bright amber lights flashing periodically throughout the chaotic reel. You tried to make sense of it all while it was still fresh before it all faded into the oncoming morning as you grew more lucid, the sunrise all too quick to cleanse away the nightmares. But ultimately you surmised that they were just that: nightmares. Given the constitution of your personal history, it would surely be a long process to rid yourself of the trauma, mere growing pains. None of what revisited you held any supremacy in your new life and you refused to let memories drag you down. And like their origins, these illusions only designed to torment you would eventually fade away in time to be replaced with whatever memories you made moving forward, and you had every intention of having them cast a much brighter light than the shadows of your past.

Gathering your wits (and yourself) from the hardwood floor, you scrambled to your feet before booking it to the bathroom, a flick of your wrist firing up the shower while en route and nearly wiping out on the plush mat laying at the foot of the sink, stubbing your toe on a loose bit of tile in the process. Drawing in a sharp intake of air you clutched the edge of the countertop, drawing your knee upwards as you crumpled forward, flexing your toes in agony.

"Christ...fuck me!"

Naturally, this was a Monday, and you were beginning to understand the whole culture revolving around the "Monday Blues". Still, you insisted the casualty of a work-day rush in the form of a bummed toe was a small price to pay on your journey towards this new life of yours. And throughout your chaotic, half-assed routine to prep yourself for the day as quickly as humanly possible, the crunched and pulsating digit worked to click itself back into place with an inaudible pop, all pain and discomfort quickly fizzling out as though it never happened. And in record time, you were out the door and in the parking lot at your bike without so much as a limp. 

~

"Whoa, 6 minutes, newbie. Is that gonna be lunch or overtime?" the middle aged man teased as you dumped your belongings into your locker, slamming the metal door shut twice before the thing finally stuck under the resisting weight of the bag you'd haphazardly stuffed inside. In your breathless state, all you could defend yourself with was an eye roll while you fumbled with your apron on your way to the staff door, rushing past Tim with a gentle nudge as you went. He chuckled, fully aware you were only playing back, despite your all too visibly agitated disposition.

It was a brutal day, the sun beating down on the outdoor space mercilessly, the arrival of two delivery trucks rather than the usual one due to an oversight on their warehouse's part, and it seemed like the entire town was having a hayday with their landscaping, as though everyone had suddenly forgotten what the difference between fertilizer and battery acid was overnight. Thankfully, the final quarter of your shift was a great deal smoother, mostly offloading the remaining pallets from the massive delivery, pruning stock, sweeping up any stray soil, and dealing with the odd customer as the traffic died down.

It wasn't until the last hour of your shift that one customer in particular stopped in to wander the isles of potted plants, an older woman you couldn't recall ever having seen here before (even in your short time in Derry, it didn’t take long to discern the routines of the locals, the population being modest as it was). She didn't really seem to know what she was looking for, or even at, holding firm to a perplexed countenance as she looked from pallet to pallet. Perhaps she was just a little confused, and when no one else went over to offer her a hand, you propped up the broom you were holding on a nearby pillar, brushed off your apron and walked over.

"Excuse me, hi there."

She turned slightly from the roses she had been inspecting, a slight tremor apparent in her hands gripping the cane at her hip as her weight shifted with much effort. 

"Oh, hello dear."

You smiled sweetly. The poor thing was clearly struggling. 

"Can I help you with anything, ma'am?" You nodded towards the roses, a new shipment you'd arranged just that morning. 

"Oh no no, I'm just browsing. I'm afraid these lovely things would be wasted on my lack of a garden." She chuckled. 

You couldn't help but find it a little odd that someone with no use for any gardening supplies was browsing, well...a garden centre. Regardless, it wasn't your place to judge, and you maintained your pleasant air.

"Alright, well if you change your mind I'll be nearby alright?" When she nodded, you turned to resume to your post sweeping up a mess the new maintenance guy had made involving a ladder and a Japanese Maple, but halted when she spoke again.

"Actually, there is one thing." 

Looking back, you noticed she was gazing out beyond the roses, and instinctively you followed her line of sight.

"I was wondering what that was." She pointed in the direction of a lonely shrub settled on an otherwise empty table, it's broad leaves covered in bunches of small, delicate white flowers, pink dots lining the inner lip of their cup-like petals. Strange, you didn't recall setting those out. Tim must have unloaded them while you were on break. 

"Uh...I think that's local. Mountain Laurel I believe?" 

"Ah, of course." An exaggerated nod suggested the answer should have been obvious to her. "I must admit, I'm really not much for plants, but I do remember my husband bringing bunches of those home, back when we first came to live in Derry."

Not entirely sure how to react to the personal nature of her remark, most notably the lack of her husband's presence and her expression taking on a sort of far-away look that suggested the obvious, all you could formulate in a reply was "Oh?"

"Ah yes, we were young then. I remember we would hike all over the countryside here, through the woods, along the cliffs, down by the river in the Barrens." She paused, tilting her head before turning back to look at you now. "Have you ever been down that way, to the Barrens?"

The slight crack in her neck and jerking of her head movement as she twisted was unsettling to say the least, but you reasoned with yourself that when you eventually reached her age, more than a few malcontented joints would no doubt give you grief as well.

“No, I’m afraid not. I’m still pretty new in town, and I’ve probably seen more of this warehouse than Derry itself since I got there.” You laughed awkwardly, clearing your throat when she didn’t join you, quickly panning back to inspect the mysterious shrub.

"I see. Well if you like nature, you would just love it down there. Between the river, the woods, the plants and animals, you almost feel as though you'd died and gone to heaven."

Something changed then, a shift in her tone drawing your gaze back to her sunken face, her smile almost too sweet, her words almost too enticing. You noticed her hands propped atop the head of the cane no longer shook as she leaned on it a great deal less, and your senses couldn’t help but detect a strange ebbing in her aura…

"Y/n!"

The voice of your boss tore your focus away from the woman, looking back over your shoulder to see Nancy jogging with an obvious sense of urgency between the isles towards you, her trusty clipboard in hand.

"Y/n, there you are! Jacob's been messing around with the forklift again and skewered an entire pallet of that new soil, the clumsy bugger. I know you're almost finished for the day, but it's a literal mountain…"

Why was the theme of today cleaning up everyone else's messes? Groaning, you opened your mouth to reply, but quickly realized you'd just cut your customer off mid-thought. However, upon turning back to apologize...she was no longer there. Looking around, your eyes searched the area for the old woman, who couldn't possibly have gone far in her condition. And yet, there was no sign of her. Your eyes fell on the shrubs she had brought to your attention, intrigue washing over you as a reminder of "The Barrens" cropped up in the back of your mind.

"What's that?" 

You looked back at Nancy to see her eyeing the shrubsl as well, visibly confused. 

"Didn't think we sold those...you bring that in?"

You shook your head, now sharing in her confusion. 

"Well, never mind. I'll go through the log later. Come on, come on, you know Bill won't want to dish us out any over-time."

Taking one last look around while Nancy hurried off, a sudden wetness trickled to meet your upper lip. Instinctively bringing the knuckle of your index finger to wipe it away, the glint of red caught your attention and you looked down. Blood. Something was wrong, but you had yet to sense what it was. Perhaps you would have to pay the Barrens a visit in the near future...

~

From the asylum of the shadows, he shook himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose to rid himself of the sickening lingering scent of roses. A faint buzzing in his frontal lobe began to wane as he drew himself further and further from the garden centre, a grunt escaping him as the offensive sensation gave one final surge before seemingly disappearing. He could swear he had almost felt his form slip during your interaction, as if you were picking him apart as you spoke. Thankfully, your dim-witted peers had come through to cut the connection, buying him time enough to slink away. His lack of understanding of whatever strange essence you possessed disturbed him immensely, however. You were oddly resilient to his nightly influence, scarcely able to penetrate the realm of your dreams to flood your thoughts with torments both realized and of his own manifestation, almost as though your mind was a securely locked box to which he could not find the key. He was certain of one thing, however: you would come to him. Of the few fragments of your chemical makeup he did manage to pick up on, curiosity was at the vanguard of your qualities, much to his delight. The rather profitable little trait did often play a crucial role in his deception, after all, and he intended to exploit this most affluently.

~ 

The rest of the week carried on as usual, relatively uneventful, just as you’d grown to appreciate. There had been no time to visit the Barrens between your scheduled hours, however, and despite keeping a keen eye out, there had been no sign of the strange woman from Monday either. 

Friday night rolled around all too quickly, silent dread pooling in your stomach throughout your shift as you watched the clock continuously for closing. Tim had gotten the bright idea of organizing a little team outing after-hours to properly welcome you to both the centre and Derry alike, complete with drinks, pool, karaoke, and no doubt a mountain of questions. It wasn’t the alcohol that bothered you so much as the possibility of an interrogation, your unique metabolism processing and expelling any toxin as soon as they hit your system making the possibility of “over doing it” a non-issue. Which was honestly a bit of a bummer at the few gatherings you had been to over the years; you wouldn’t mind an excuse to be, well...you.

Inevitably, closing time finally struck. 

“Aaaaalright kids, hang up those aprons, ditch the dirt and dump those hoes, time to hit the town!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the overzealous announcement Tim made from the office, taking full advantage of the unsupervised intercom system much to Nancy’s disapproval. He was like the wannabe “cool dad” of the group, late 40s, single, and fully equipped with an arsenal of dead memes and dad jokes. But he always seemed to be there with timely advice, much like a real father figure would be. Still, the workplace friendship you two seemed to strike up was fairly modest and didn’t often extend far beyond the breakroom. You kept your head down and worked through your shifts almost entirely independently, where he, despite also possessing a hardy work ethic, made it a habit to hang around and crack jokes with the other warehouse “dudes”.

Your small party soon found itself at one of the local hangouts, the “Falcon Bar”, conveniently located next to the bus terminal for those who wandered out in a less than sober state (which was the vast majority of their patronage; what else was there to do in a small town of a Friday night). Much to your surprise, the night was actually a fairly enjoyable occasion, finding yourself taking the guys to school in a game of pool (and a few demanded remaches), harnessing your own previously unrealized natural skill along with a few...tricks of your own. Merely a subtle wink or two here and there if the bumpers got in the way of an otherwise clean shot, nothing too reckless. All the guys in the bar were dumbfounded by your ability to sponge up a shocking number of brews, even thrashing Cole (a burly 6’ 2” construction dude who’s been known to knock back more than a reasonable number of bottles in a sitting, according to Tim) in a drink-off. And your group was in absolute hysterics as the guys all clambered onto the stage to painfully garble out quite possibly the worst rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody” you’d ever heard, nearly wetting yourself at the overly dramatic climax of “I see a little silhouetto of a man; Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?!”, Jacob nearly teetering off the stage when he no doubt expelled all the air from his lungs dragging out the final worlds with a theatrical wave of his arm. This had to be the most fun you’d had in years, if ever. 

The night ended on a high note, everyone parting ways in fits of giggles, new inside jokes and uncharacteristic hugs. Of course Nancy, who like you remained entirely sober as she’d stepped up to the plate as designated driver, offered you a lift back to your hotel, but you insisted on walking, wanting to savor the night a little longer. This unfamiliar high had you perched far above the clouds, and you doubted this level of energy would have you passing out any time soon. Waving to your coworkers as they pulled away from the curb, you began your journey down Center Street. It was a pretty straight shoot back to the Holiday Inn, taking Center to Main, then a left on Jackson. But in your euphoria, your decided to take a detour around town, shoving your hands into your coat pockets with a deep breath of fresh night air as you turned instead down Kansas Street. 

You strolled blissfully past the library, McCarron Park, and peeked into the darkened shop windows as you made your way through town, only passing one other couple in the streets out for a late night walk with their Beagle. It was a perfect night, clear sky, moon bright, the Fall air crisp and fresh, and you revelled in the peace of it all with your eyes shut for a moment as you walked on. However, a strange sound soon pulled your from your trance, faint whimpering accompanied by the shuffling then tearing of cloth, and a voice growing louder as you walked on.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up you little prick!” Someone kicked something hollow and wooden, the sound of group laughter chiming in soon after.

You froze. Someone was in trouble. Pricking your ears to hone in on the ordeal, you followed the mingling voices to the edge of the laundromat, the clamor echoing from an ally between it and the next building over. Focusing your senses, you sent your mind’s eye outward to assess the situation, pulling apart the layers of chatter and overlapping thoughts. There were 7 of them, one of which held a blade, and 1 kid scared shitless at their mercy. How the hell were you going to tackle this? In the midst of trying to pick apart your options, the helpless boy let out a cry of anguish, and you knew then that these thugs weren’t just messing around.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” 

Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you scrambled out into the open, barking what you already knew were useless orders. The guy with the blade, which he now held to the kid’s exposed stomach with a glint of red, stared you down looking rather stunned for a moment, before snorting and breaking into ridiculing laughter. Of course his lackeys were quick to join in, backing away from their ring leader as he rose, the group collectively eyeing you up and down.

“The fuck you just say?”

You repeated yourself, holding fast to a tone more confident and demanding than before. The bully merely scoffed, raising the blade at his side to point dangerously close to the fearful boy’s face.

“Aww, ain’t that sweet. Didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Pinky Dick.” He cast a malicious sideways glance your way, sneering as he knowingly pricked the boy’s cheek with the tip of the knife before looking back his way. “I think you’re punching a little above your weight though, tubby. Don’t tell me YOU seen what’s under that coat.” 

You cringed as he flicked his tongue over yellowing teeth at you before biting his chapped lip roughly, eyeing you like the animal he was. Still, you stood your ground, unwavering under the grotesque performance.

“Let him go before I call the cops.”

The entire group laughed at that, the humor of it enough to make the head bully pull away from his play thing to indulge the scene.

“The cops? The fuck are they gonna do?! Jack shit is what, like always!”

With that, he turned back to crouch next to the boy, who know had streams of tears flowing down his cheeks, frightened and in pain from the merciless torcher at the hands of his tormentors. Sobs wracked his frame as the blade was held to his face once more, the full edge now just ghosting over his pale, freckled skin.

“Piss off girly before you’re next in line for a facial...unless you want one?” The bully tilted his head to look back at you again, cocking an eyebrow all too suggestively. 

In that moment you wanted nothing more than to send his brains splattering all over the brick walls. You could do it, all too easily, but you kept your emotions at a low boil, nails digging into your palms within clenched fists to keep yourself grounded. The last thing you wanted to do was blow your cover and ruin everything over these idiots. But you couldn’t just walk away…

Scanning the group you were hardly surprised to discover just how dimwitted the lot of them were; any form of suggestion would be a piece of cake to plant in their thick heads. You eyed the burly one in the back.

*Alright big guy, make me proud.*

Seemingly out of nowhere, the smaller guy in the red hoodie in front of him spun around to deck him square in the face, sending him tumbling backwards into a pile of trash bags. All at once the group turned, their leader jumping up at the commotion, all amusement expelling from their midst. The big guy groaned, breaking out of his trance to the no doubt unpleasant feeling of his twisted and bloodied nose.

“The fuck man?!” Came the voice of another in the party.

“He fuckin’ goosed me!”

“Wha-”

Once the big guy realized his nose was thoroughly broken, all hell broke loose and he was on the small red hoodie kid in an instant, tackling him like a linebacker drilling a tiny quarterback from the blindside. The two were laying into each other like a couple of teenagers on a school yard, the others gathering around and uselessly trying to pry them off one another, one absentmindedly cheering before realizing no one else was.

When the ring leader simply stood where he was, waiting for the pandemonium to settle on its own, it became clear you were going to have to spice things up a bit. Looking to one of the other boys on the sidelines of the scuffle, you effortlessly tapped into his psyche. He stiffened, eyes glazing over before he turned to one of the others, drawing up his fist to clock him in the jaw. But the boy caught wind of his movements and ducked at the last second, the blow instead clearing the top of his head to thrust forward and catch their leader’s chin with an audible thud, and you swore you could hear the sound of teeth grinding and chipping. Immediately the group halted, turning to look down in horror at the toppled teen holding his jaw which was now an angry red at the point of contact. In shock, he stood hunched for a moment, the blade now lying at his feet coated in a few drops of fresh blood. He craned his neck to look up at the other kid, now totally lucid and backing away with his hand held out before him both apologetically and defensively, before lunging forward and grabbing him by the collar of his jacket with one first. Throwing him back against the brick wall, he proceeded to pummel the absolute shit out of his face, the back of the boy’s head connecting with the wall more than once with the force of the enraged strikes. 

The group now mortified and entirely preoccupied, you moved to slink in behind them towards the stunned kid still huddled on the ground. He jumped slightly when you touched his shoulder, but relaxed slightly when he saw it was only you. Holding a finger to your lips, you motioned for him to follow you, putting an arm around him when he struggled to collect himself on his feet. Leaving the band of thugs to their own devices, the two of you snuck out of the ally, around the corner and down the remaining lonely stretch of Kansas Street. When the punishing sounds were finally out of earshot, you guided the boy to a bench off the main stretch of road, plopping yourself next to him once he was settled, both of you taking a moment to catch your breath.

“T-thanks…” 

You looked over at the boy who stared downwards at his fidgeting hands, a fresh mixture of blood and dirt thoroughly coating the skin. He sniffled, wiping his bloody nose. You wondered if this was a regular occurrence for him...

“Don’t mention it. Lucky for us those guys were all a bunch of airheads, huh?” You winked, gently nudging his shoulder with your own and he laughed. You caught wind of the red stain under his torn sweater visibly bleeding through, a decent sized pool spreading through the otherwise blue knit.

“We should get you home to your parents, that’ll need to get looked at.”

He whimpered, glancing down at the spot to touch it gently before hissing in pain on contact, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. Your heart broke for him, and for a moment you seriously debated doubling back and kicking the shit out of the entire group of those sick bastards. But instead, you placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. 

“Hey, on the bright side, you’ll have one wicked scar. Here, check this out:” 

Sniffling once, he turned to face you, looking down to where you lifted the hem of your coat somewhat to reveal a portion of your side. His eyes widened at the sight of a raised scar running from your hip to your midsection, travelling further upwards to hide beneath the fabric of your shirt. 

“Whoa! How’d that happen?!”

You chuckled at the reaction, lowering the coat. 

“Bullies, just like you. Don’t worry, they came out of it looking way worse than me.” This was partially true, the brutality of the researchers back at the labs being little different than street thugs in white coats testing the limits of your healing factor.

When you breathed casually on your knuckles, brushing them on the shoulder of your coat to demonstrate your might, the two of you shared a laugh, his disposition seeming to lighten a little and the shimmering in his eyes lessening. Rising from the bench, you turned to him, slipping your hands back into your coat pockets.

“C'mon, you lead the way…” You gestured towards him, inviting the introductions.

“Oh, uh, Daniel.”

You smiled, nodding. “Daniel. I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

He blushed a little, sliding off the bench to join you on the sidewalk. 

“You too.”

As the two of you departed from the scene together down West Broadway, you were suddenly overcome with an odd pricking at the nape of your neck, hair sent standing on end. Had you turned around, you would have been met with an all too familiar pair of amber lights peeking out from the shadows just beyond the bench, hunger and bloodlust only scarcely outweighed by intrigue radiating from a creature few could comprehend, watching you intently as you disappeared into the night with what was intended to be his next meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm hoping to update this at least once a week, most likely on Fridays for sure moving forward. But I do plan on having at least one more chapter up within the next few days just to get the ball rolling! As always, thank you for reading 🖤


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